Page 11

CHAPTER 11

MISTRUST FESTERS

Nadira

N ow that Julian has revealed the man breaking into his Spanish home was a coworker, I watch him with more suspicion than before. In our profession, trust isn’t easy to come by. Sometimes to carry out our assignments, we have to do whatever it takes to make a target trust us. I wish I could say Julian’s actions tipped the scale to get me to believe him. He has been consistent since he broke into my home, but we come from a world where we create realities to support our con.

We eat, breathe, and sleep with the alternative narratives we invent until our true identities seem like imaginary ones. And with this recent development about his organization, I’m less convinced that he isn’t running a con on me for purposes I haven’t figured out yet. For all I know, he’s playing a long game and will take advantage the second I drop my guard. What that advantage is, I don’t know.

“You can’t go home.” Julian’s comment breaks from my thoughts as I stare blindly out of the airplane window.

“That’s obvious.”

“You should also stay out of the office. Your cover’s probably broken.”

“Again, you’re stating the obvious. I agree that they know about my current identity, but they’re not aware of what I’ve discovered. Now if I don’t show up, they’ll know I’m onto them.”

“Assume that they know.”

“Even more reason to go into the office.”

He stares at me, an incredulous smile growing on his face. “You want to trap them.”

“Got a problem with it?”

“A few, but I doubt they’ll sway you from undertaking such a dangerous task.” He scrubs his face. When he removes his hands, all trace of amusement disappears. His lips are firm and a grimness brackets his mouth. “Before you enact a plan that endangers your life, will you let me help you?”

His offer comes as no surprise, but his assistance would open me up to other dangers, namely his hidden motives behind everything he does for me. My hesitation keeps me silent until my lack of response creates an awkward tension between us. I’m stuck between wanting to believe he is who he says he is and a sense of self-preservation that needs to doubt him.

Unable to bear looking at him as hope dwindles in his eyes, I turn to the window once more. The tactic doesn’t make me any less aware of him. I’m used to the tingling at my nape and now associate it with when he’s lasered his attention on me. So when a soft, almost inaudible, wisp of air sounds behind me, I recognize it for what it is. His disappointment. A twisting ache in my chest makes breathing hard.

“If that’s not an option, I’ll find you a safe place for you to stay until things blow over,” Julian says, sparking an idea.

I swivel in my seat to face him. “Where do you have in mind?”

“I doubt they’ll check the short-term rentals before you book a place. Even so, you’ll reserve under an alias.” He goes on with multiple options, none of which I expect. They’re all acceptable, providing different benefits that would aid me in staying off his company’s radar while trying to lure them into a trap.

To be fair, my suspicions are driving me to expect an invitation to his home, his perfectly curated space that is meant to draw me in and trust him. But he doesn’t offer his place at all. Is he playing a kind of reverse psychology on me?

“What about your place?” I finally ask, interrupting his list of options.

“My place?” All signs of life leach from his face, and for the first time since meeting Julian, he avoids my gaze. “Not a good idea.”

“What if I insist?” I push, needing to see how far his resistance goes. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing you won’t discover on your own. Either way, my home isn’t a good place for you to be.”

I sit back in my seat and fold my arms. “So what you said about wanting me to trust you, that was bullshit?”

His head springs up and he glares at me. “Nadira, I see what you’re doing, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Oh? What did I do?”

“You’re trying to manipulate me by dangling something precious to bend me to your will.”

He considers my trust precious? The ache in my chest sharpens.

“Julian, you know the lives we lead. Only one of us claims to know the other, which means trust should come easier for you. I don’t have the luxury you do.”

His lips firm into a grim line. “This is what you need to be at ease with me?”

“I can’t promise that, but it’ll be a good start.”

We lapse into silence for the rest of the flight, leaving me to wonder if I’ll say my last goodbye to him when we land. Although, with his determination, I’ll have to keep moving. He’ll find me again and the next time could have deadly consequences for both of us.

When we land, I prepare myself to leave without him. He preempts my efforts by having Alastair take Leaper’s carrier off the plane and into a waiting car.

Still in my seat, I glare at Julian, ready to go at him with fists and kicks if necessary. “Are you catnapping pets now?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks, showing his restraint. “No, I’m giving us a good start.” He stands and waits for me to do the same.

“You could have said something instead of letting me assume,” I grumble as I pass before him.

A smile flirts at the corner of his mouth. “You like to make assumptions. You could have kept quiet, making all those plans to ditch me in your head, until I said where I was taking you.”

“It’s unnerving how well you read me.”

He shrugs unapologetically. “Some things don’t change.”

Julian leads me to the same car Alastair entered. Upon opening the door, my cat mewls.

“She wants an unobstructed view of the ride. Let her out once we’re on the road, or hand her to me,” I instruct Alastair.

From the rearview mirror, I glimpse Alastair eyeing me and Julian. “She’s in excellent hands.” Despite his reassurance, he continues to watch us, as if wondering how to code his next words. “Is it your intention to avoid notice, sir?”

“Yes.”

The car starts and Alastair frees Leaper who immediately extends her front paws to watch the passing scenery.

When Julian doesn’t elaborate, I poke his arm. “Do you have a bat cave entrance or something that allows you to escape detection whenever you return home?”

Alastair coughs into his hand, but can’t hide the shining amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“Something like that.” Julian turns to his window, but from his reflection, a small smile peeks back at me.

An hour later, I get the joke. Off the highway, beyond the suburbs, we pull onto a private road leading to a massive iron-wrought gate that swings open on our approach. The drive up the tree-lined path takes another ten minutes before opening onto Wayne Manor. Except it’s not a fictional mansion from the comics.

I pull Julian around to face me. “This massive structure is your home?” I nearly shriek the question, as I try to understand my reaction.

“Technically, it’s a safe house.” Alastair gathers Leaper into her carrier before exiting the vehicle.

Questions whirl within my head as I follow Julian inside. Unable to keep my curiosity caged any longer, I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you take me to your other house?”

Julian swings around and squares his shoulders. “A couple reasons. My organization knows about the other house. It would defeat the purpose of bringing you here.”

I retract my hand. “And the other reason?” Although I ask, I’m not sure I want the answer any longer.

“This is the place where I don’t have to pretend. If you were ever going to find a reason to trust me, I had to bring you here.”

I look up at the sprawling staircase and Renaissance-style paintings and sculptures on the walls and ceilings. I make good money from my legitimate company and have a massive fortune in off-shore accounts, but I never thought of living like this.

“Let me show you your room.”

I nod, refraining from commenting on the purpose of giving me a room when he’s bound to watch me sleeping at night, anyway. His calm assuredness is missing and for some reason, I don’t want to take away any more of it.

We enter a room that looks like it’s always prepared for visitors. No need to change the sheets or air the room. There’s no dust on the furniture, and… I take a fresh glance around. This isn’t a room for just any visitor. This isn’t a visitor’s room at all.

“When you said your room, you meant that everything in here is meant specifically for me, didn’t you?”

Although not a replica of my bedroom, Julian has recreated the color scheme, transitional furniture, and accessories that reflect the same vibe from my home. There’s even a wig room with a larger collection than the one in my apartment.

He stares deeply into my eyes. In a low voice, he says, “One day, I hope you’ll believe me when I say I’m here for you.”